Old Stuff
As Good As it Gets (1997)
Directed by James L. Brooks
"As Good As it Gets" is a James L. Brooks joint and I think he smoked a few while working on this meandering celluloid sleep aid. Jack Nicholson stars as the obsessive/compulsive misanthropic writer whose life becomes intertwined with his gay artist neighbor (Greg Kinear) and his regular waitress (Helen Hunt). Nicholson's nastiness is established in the very first scene as he unceremoniously sends Kinear's dog down the garbage chute. What about the obsessive compulsive disorder, you ask? You see, Jack can't start his day without eating at the same restaurant at the same table and being served by the same waitress every single morning. One day, he arrives at the eatery to find two people sitting at his regular table. He chases down waitress Hunt and bellows, "There are Jews at my table!" He forces them to leave by assaulting them with acidic anti-Semitic taunts.
A few days later, his routine is suddenly turned upside down when he is greeted by a new waitress who informs him that Hunt can't work because she has to stay at home to care for her chronically ill son. Panicked, he makes an unscheduled visit to his shrink, who refuses to see him. His only choice is to pay a topnotch physician (Harold Ramis) to treat the kid so Hunt can go back to work, allowing his own life to return to normal. At the same time, Nicholson has been forced to care for gay blade Kinear's dog (remember the garbage chute?) while Kinear recovers from a near-fatal beating he received from some thugs he caught robbing him. The medical bills bankrupt Kinear and his agent cajoles Nicholson into driving the bashed gay to Baltimore so he can hit his parents up for some dough. Homophobic Nicholson recruits the obliged Hunt to chaperone them. They embark on their road trip to Baltimore, resulting in the aforementioned intertwining.
It was at this point that I started thinking that I should drive to Baltimore myself as it would move faster and prove more entertaining than the plodding tepidness that was dripping out of the projector like a Chinese water torture. It was disappointing to see Kinear's character introduced as the stereotypical prancing faggot that Hollywood loves to throw at us. Fortunately, this is played down as the film progresses. Hunt wins the award for making me sit up and actually pay close attention for a couple minutes, not for her acting talent, but for the rain-soaked shirt clinging to her torso. In other words, I chide Hollywood for its shallow portrayal of homosexuals and applaud it for showing me a woman's erect nipples. What can I say? Nicholson is the only reason to consider seeing this latest excretion into the romantic comedy Porta-John. As with a Porta-John, this movie should be rented and returned promptly after use. -- Rating: $3.00
Mike Santoro -- copyright 1997